494 c H 
Acr II.—After a fpace of four or five years without 
any news -from the mandarin, whofe father and mother 
are dead, and the family in the greatelt uneafmefs, the 
two wives become very diicontented. They deliberate 
together, and form the projeft to abandon the houfe of 
their hulband, and go, while they are yet young and 
beautiful, to feek a better deftiny, perfuaded that the 
mandarin has perilhed in an expedition with which it 
was laid the emperor had charged him. Having well 
concerted their defign, and being firmly decided in their 
refolution to execute it, they impart the lame.to the old 
domeltic, as well as to Aouana. Thefe lall exprefs the 
greatefl: allonifhment, and a jult indignation at the lhame 
w'ith which thefe tvvo wives wpuld cover their mailer, or 
his manes, if he be really dead. Both thefe two faith¬ 
ful domellics addrefs the ftrongeft reprefentations to the 
two wives. They draw an energetic pifture of the fu- 
blime fentiments with which chaility infpires the women 
in China; but their cares are of no avail, they only ob¬ 
tain from thefe degraded, women a fmile of dildain. 
Aouana, who is touched Hill more by this inflexibility, 
runs, takes up the infant and prelents it to its mother, 
as a bond which ought to attach her for ever to the houfe 
of her hulband. She conjures her to have compaflion at 
dealt on her own blood, and not to complete, thfe dilgrace 
of both the fon and the father by an infenfate defertion. 
The two wives,.already feduced by the idea which they 
had conceived of a liberty without bounds, perfevere in 
their project. The mother rejefts the child die has given 
birth to, and ftifling in her heart the fweetelt fentiments 
of nature, recommends it in a tone of raillery to the faith¬ 
ful cares of Aouana. Thefe two vagabonds, conftantly 
mocking the two domellics, take their jewels and clothes 
which they had already packed up, and quit the houfe, 
bidding an adieu to Atay and Aouana, which ferves to 
complete their dillrefs and defpondency. After having 
given bitter tears to this fatal event, thefe two valuable 
iervants, finding it was impoflible to remedy it, mutually 
encourage each other; and at the inllant when their foul 
is bowed down with grief, they fwear to confecrate the 
remainder of their Itrength to labour for the relief of their 
neceflities, and thofe of the innocent infant of their wor¬ 
thy mailer, and, above all, to furnilh him with the means 
of devoting himfelf to the fludy of letters. The fecond 
aft terminates with this laudable defign. 
Act III.—The child has arrived at his thirteenth year. 
—The curtain riles, and we fee old Atay bufily employed 
in making llraw fandals, the only trade which he knows. 
Aouana is fitting near a table covered with garments, 
and is fewing very diligently. The old domeltic fings at 
his labour the melancholy hiltory of his mailer, and with 
fo much fenfibility, that at lall his eyes are fuffufed, and 
tears run down his cheeks. To Ihew courage, he wipes 
his tears, and aftefts to laugh, as if to reproach his pufil- 
lanimity. Aouana then fpeaks to him, and obferves how 
fweet and confoling it is for a virtuous foul to fulfil its 
duties, becaule the gods never withdraw their benefits 
from thole who love to execute them. She goes on to 
exprefs all their happinefs in having fucceeded for fo 
many years not only in efcaping mil'ery, but in having 
procured inllruftion for their young mailer, who is 
making Inch progrels, that lie will afluredly become a 
man of rare merit, and be induced from gratitude to 
take care of their extreme old age. This dilcourle con- 
loles and re-animates the good Atay. He Ihews Aouana 
his pair of fandals finilhed, and fays he is going to fell 
them, or rather exchange them, for lome lamp-oil, by 
the light of which they were accuitomed to labour very 
far in the night. At the moment in which the old man 
is about to let out, arrives young Siou-ye from his col¬ 
lege, with books under his arm. He falutes Atay with 
an affefting and ingenious air, who cardies him with eu- 
.logiums and encouragements. He then goes towards the 
table where Aouana is at work, and falutes her as if Ihe 
was his mother. He lays his books on the table, and 
I N A. 
places himfelf befide her. Aouana queftions him with 
much affability on what he has learned. She, men¬ 
tions to him the lefi’ons which he has had to recite, and 
he repeats them with a loud voice. She commends his 
application, and profits of this moment to fliew him that 
it is only by thefe means that he can acquire glory 
enough to give real latisfaftion to the manes of his fa¬ 
ther: file recommends to him to dread the lofs of time, 
and to purfue his feudies without ceafing night and day, 
in order to arrive at the end of fo many labours. Ex¬ 
cited by this dii’courfe, the youth takes up his books and 
reads in them attentively, till at length, fleep weighing 
down his eye-lids, his head drops on his book. In this 
interval Atay returns with a pot full of oil, fome of which 
he pours into the lamp; he adjulls it that it might give 
the better light; afterwards he goes to prepare the iup- 
per. Aouana, who perceives the young lludent afleep, 
awakes him and invites him, after her example, to break 
oft’ his repofe. He really makes efforts to do fo, but 
yieding at length to a call, imperious at his age, he again 
falls fall afteep. Aouana remarks him; and, in a long 
of a touching nature, Ihe paints the contrail of the pain¬ 
ful fituation of a foul where inquietude has penetrated, 
and that of an innocent heart where reigns tranquillity 
which the thought of evil has not fullied. She touches, 
laltly, on the happinefs which is the portion of youth, 
becaufe it is yet unacquainted with the torments of ma- 
turer years. In this lall part, Ihe has her eyes fixed on 
the child. A truly maternal tendernefs is in her looks, 
and Ihe lengthens out her fong by couplets on the lot of 
this unfortunate. She is now moved to the bottom of 
her heart. Although Ihe would refpeft his repofe, Ihe, 
neverthelefs, judges it indifpenfable to awake him. She 
wipes her tears, and at lall refolves to call her young maf- 
ter; but, too profoundly afleep, he cannot hear her. Then 
Ihe takes a ferule of leather which is on the table, and 
gives him a flight blow on the cheek. Siou-ye awakes, rifes 
up in a pafiion, and abufes Aouana, alking her wlfat made 
her fo bold as to dare to llrike him, lince Ihe very well 
knows (lie is not his mother, but only a Have of his fa¬ 
ther? He manifells in all his gellures a degree of refent- 
ment for that aftion, which he thinks impertinent. Aou¬ 
ana, who has confidered Siou-ye with the expreflion which 
a flight fit of anger infpires, rifes when Ihe perceives the 
effefts of that florin drawing to an end, and comes to 
place herfelf before him. The youth is yet letting fall 
reproaches from his mouth; but it is already eal’y to re¬ 
mark that he has a fentiment of his fault. At length 
Aouana addrefles him, and tells him, in a tone full of ten- 
dernefs, that Ihe well knows (lie is not his mother. “ But,” 
adds Ihe, “ where can you now find her from whom you 
received life, and by whom you have been fo cruelly aban¬ 
doned in your tender infancy ? Since that fatal period, • 
who has taken care of your days ? who has provided for 
all your wants f Without doubt nature has not made me 
your mother; but has my heart ever ceafed to have the 
tendernefs and folicitudes of one ? Have not old Atay 
and I laboured, day and night, for a great number of 
years, to fuccour all your neceflities, in order to give you 
the moll uieful of all benefits, that education which 
in time was to make you a valuable man ? Who can 
be lure that your true father is yet alive ? Ah ! I now 
feel it cruelly, I have only taken fo much pains, have only, 
experienced fo much anguilh, for an ungrateful wretch ! 
Already I become the objeft of your contempt and of 
your haughty humour. It mult be fo, lince you force me 
to it; I renounce, for the future, inquietudes which I fee 
are likely to be fo unavailing. No, I am not your mother. 
I reilore you to yourfelf, and will rigidly abftain for the 
future from all the duties of a fenlible l’oul, of a nurfe. 
May the gods forget your ingratitude, as I do.” Siou- 
ye, who has heard all this tirade without daring to inter¬ 
rupt her (according to the cullom of the Chinele chil¬ 
dren,) and who has liltened to all her expreflions with a 
painful attention, through which he diicovered from time 
to 
